Bittersweet Endings
by innocent words
Summary: {ON HOLD} Enjolras never cared much for women, he had more important things to spend his time thinking about, but when he meets a strong-minded individual who shares his republican opinions he can't stop himself from being drawn to her. Will he eventually admit his true feelings before it is too late for them both? Enjolras/OC.
1. Clarisse

_"The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves." - Victor Hugo_

**Chapter One:  
**Clarisse

**1831**

Enjolras was a believer in equality; he dreamed that the country of France would one day be rid of poverty. Enjolras himself, however, was an only child from a wealthy family and a student of the university but that didn't stop him from voicing his republican opinions. It had been roughly one year after the July Revolution that forced a King off the throne and now they had another one just as bad as the last. Ideas of revolution would often float around Enjolras' head - as they had ever since he was young. He thought that if he eventually got the support of his fellow students then he could in due time gain the assistance of the Parisians to help him succeed with hope that the people would overthrow the king. He knew that he must make this happen.

As Enjolras slowly walked down the cobbled streets of Paris with his good friend, Marius, by his side he couldn't help but bring up the subjects of politics once again.

"If we were to speak to the people directly then they may listen, you know. We have to stop living in fear of the law and in the shadow the monarchy. We need to stand up for what is right, Marius." Enjolras watched the sun dip below the horizon and he imagined it rising once more into a better world where there would be no darkness.

A rat scuttled under the gutter as they strolled past. "I agree with you, my friend, but lets be realistic, who is going to listen?" Marius pointed out.

"They would listen to General Lamarque, perhaps. Our words would be so inspiring that they have listen... no I'm sure they would listen. Right now my ideas are just ideas but nevertheless I believe in them."

They continued to discuss politics for most of the evening. Enjolras would often look up at the attached houses along the street, seeing the people close their shutters, acknowledging that the day was over. Same old routine: Sleep, work, die. All of it depressed Enjolras, there had to be more to life than just a vicious cycle of boringness.

The pair realised that it was getting late so they started to make their way home, but unexpectedly something caught Enjolras' eye. There seemed to be some sort of struggle between a man and a woman in the alleyway. He could only just make out the figures but he knew he'd have to do something. Enjolras' first instinct was to help the poor girl and he ran down the street with Marius calling to him in confusion.

Now Enjolras was closer, he could see that the man was trying to seize a necklace off the girl. This girl was putting up quite a fight but he knew she would be overpowered soon.

Without a second thought Enjolras heaved the stranger off the woman and punched him square in the jaw. The man staggered back, dropping the necklace he had managed to yank from the girls neck, and fled down the alleyway in the opposite direction.

Enjolras turned to the fragile body beside him. "Are you hurt, _Mademoiselle_?"

The girl looked up at him with dazzlingly emerald-green eyes and her beauty surprised him. She had dirt in her brunette hair and on her clothes - she definitely lived on the street - but yet there was an elegant grace about her, something that appealed to Enjolras. She was thin, probably from lack of nourishment and her complexion was pale. She was like a diamond buried in soot yet she still shone.

"I am fine, _Monsieur_, thanks to you." She once again surprised him by embracing him, her arms wrapped around his neck, but she quickly pulled away ashamed at the state of hygiene she was in. "_Pardon_, I forgot how dirty I am these days. Forgive me, _Monsieur._"

"There is no need to apologise, it is quite alright, and please call me Enjolras," he smiled at the girl and kissed her hand. He then bent down to pick up her necklace that had fallen out of the hands of her attacker. "I believe this is yours."

She took it from his outstretched palm just as Marius arrived. "What happened?" He asked quickly.

Enjolras acknowledged his fellow students but he never broke eye contact with the curious girl. "A thief attacked... for the life of me I don't even know your name, would you mind sharing, _Mademoiselle_?"

"My name is Clarisse," she spoke quietly, almost as if she is suddenly aware of the terrible condition she must look.

"_Clarisse_..." Enjolras repeated to himself, getting a taste of the new word. This girl had sparked something deep within Enjolras and reminded him the reason to fight for something more. People should not just be abandoned on the street like they are, they need to have the same opportunities as everyone else.

A small smile spread across Clarisse's face. "Please, call me Clara," mirroring the words he spoke to her only just a few seconds earlier. This made Enjolras beam.

Enjolras was not a man who smiled often - his friends knew him as a serious man with wonderful ideas - so the fact that this girl had made him smile twice in one night was frankly a miracle.

Marius clapped Enjolras on the back. "That was a courageous thing for you to do. You have just proved that you will be a great leader and I am positive the students at the academy will follow us like you said."

Enjolras nodded at Marius, thankful that he finally had someone who supported the cause he supported. As Enjolras faced Clara again, with the intention of offering her shelter, he realised that she was gone. She had disappeared into the shadows and Enjolras felt disappointed.

He never had noticed women before, women seemed to notice him but they were never on Enjolras' mind. But this girl was in his mind and she didn't leave. Enjolras wondered why every other girl was invisible to him yet he couldn't ignore this girl who lurked on the streets of Paris.

He dreamed of Clara that night and he hoped that he would see her again sometime, but then again he didn't. Clara was a huge distraction from the main matter at hand. He definitely didn't need any distractions.

(***)

**Like or dislike this story so far? :)**

**Basically I love the theatre production of Les Miserables and I know bits of the book so I was inspired, by the latest Les Mis film, to write fanfiction about it. Enjolras is my favourite character so I thought.. why not write a story about him?**

**This chapter is a bit short because it is the opening one but the others should be longer. ****Reviews would be awesome!**

**Also I changed my main characters name ever so slightly because her name was Clarissa but because she is french it should be Clarisse. Her name is still Clara though. Sorry I got it wrong the first time.**


	2. Angel

_"Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face." - Victor Hugo_

**Chapter Two:  
**Angel

**1832**

She awoke to the horrible shrieks of her unbearable Aunt. Light flooded into the room from the two windows adjacent to the her and her eyes attempted to adjust to the brightness. She wondered why her Aunt always insisted on waking her with a loud voice every morning.

She quickly climbed out of the comfort of her bed sheets to see what it was that her relative wanted this time. She lazily slung herself in the direction of the stairs and clung to the banister.

"What is it Aunt?" She tried to speak in her politest voice so that her Auntie didn't become frustrated at her in the early hours of the morning.

"The servants are busy dusting the drawing-room so you will have to make my morning beverage yourself. Come on _Clara_, come and grace us with your presence for once instead of always sleeping until late morning. Remember whose house this is," she shouted up the stairs.

_She really is a dreadful woman_, thought Clara.

Before going downstairs, she slipped into her clothes for the day; She chose a simple deep purple dress garment. Clara never really liked dresses but everyone in this household insisted she must wear one. Clara, however, refused to ever wear a corset, because she thought they appeared foolish, she couldn't fathom why women wanted to make themselves seem skinnier than they were. From personal experiences she could see no logical reason why people wanted to appear like they were starving.

Clara ignored her Aunts screeches that she hurry up and instead sauntered closer to the long mirror hanging on her wall. She stared at herself up and down with harsh eyes. It felt like only yesterday she was on the streets begging to strangers for money that would only just afford a pathetic slice of bread. Looking at her reflection she could still see that poor frighten girl who she was only a year ago; to her, she still was the same girl. Her once scrawny body was now curvier thanks to the right nutrients. Her brown wavy hair no longer looked limp and lifeless. Her jade-coloured eyes, which used to look afraid, now appeared stronger and more powerful. Overall she was better than before and Clara hated that about herself.

Just because she lived with the rich did in no way mean that she was fond of them; she personally despised her Aunt. If it was up to her then everyone would have a decent amount of money or at least everyone could have a proper education. It made her so angry when she thought about it.

"Clara!"

Clara sighed and fled from her mirror. She slowly made her way down the flight of stairs to irritate her Aunt even further, whose face seemed to have fairly rosy cheeks this forenoon.

"I have been calling you for a decade now, young lady," her Aunt said with a venomous hiss. _An over-exaggeration_, Clara thought.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead put on her most apologetic face, "_Pardon_ Auntie, I was having trouble with my dress. You look lovely today, have you done something with your hair?"

Her Aunt, whose name was Lorraine, touched her hair with a small smirk on her face. "Oh how nice of you to notice, yes actually I just went... blah blah blah," Clara stopped listening.

She knew how distract her Aunt easily, meaning that she rarely got in trouble. However, when on occasion Clara did do something that Lorraine didn't like, then it was like being caught up in a fight between lightning and a hurricane.

"Well it is wonderful Auntie, and I shall make that beverage for you now," Clara said with a smile.

"Thank you dear. Oh and I want tea, three sugars," she called back to Clara as she strolled away.

Clara quickly made the usual drink she made for Lorraine most days and placed it on her Aunts favourite spot on the coffee table. _That will quiet her down for a while_.

She was about to go upstairs again, when she remembered that she had promised to give Gavroche the book she told him about the other day. She changed direction and swiftly headed for the mansion library, hoping that Lorraine didn't notice her. Once she was inside, using a ladder, she plucked the book for the top shelf and jumped off, landing delicately on the ground.

She had been close with the street urchin ever since they met. She clearly remembers him calling her a 'pompous ass' while she was having a walk about Paris one morning; to which her reply was 'you my friend, are a childish shit'. The insults continued until they both ended up laughing. She told him that she was poor not so long ago and all he said was: 'I thought you were one of us'. That was the start of their friendship.

Clara grinned at the memory. She gracefully walked outside and asked the carriage driver to take her to the part of the city that Gavroche lived in, Saint Michele. The driver nodded and Clara climbed aboard.

When the carriage arrived she spotted Gavroche straight away; he was the one standing up above his gang of children, and once again speaking of the freedom they so rightfully deserve. Clara always felt silly when she arrived here in a horse and cart but it was quicker than walking and luckily the people here respected her enough not to comment on it.

As Clara stepped out of the carriage she was once more reminded of the terrible condition this part of the city was in. Houses, or she probably should call them tents, which the people had built themselves to offer at least some shelter. Disease and infection was inevitable in a place such as this and it stunk of death. _It is not right that people have to live like this._

Clara hid the book behind her back when Gavroche noticed her and came barrelling in her direction.

"Clara!" He kissed her hand, obviously playing to his audience of followers in the background. He always tried to act older than he was.

"Pleased to see me?" She said with a laugh. As she was looking at him, Clara noticed a badge on his jacket. It looked like a flower; it had blue in the middle, white around the blue and red on the outside of it. _Just like the colours of the French flag_. Clara wondered what it signified but she held herself back from asking.

"Always am, _Mademoiselle,_" he flashed his big toothed grin. "You got something for me?" He asked trying to peek at what was behind her back.

"Maybe, or maybe I'll give it to one of the other boys who aren't so nosy," Clara spoke in a teasing voice.

"Let me see!" He tried to grab it from her but she was too quick. "Come on, not fair!"

"It is completely fair actually. Manners cost nothing you know," she said with smile but she gave it to him anyway. "Here. I don't know if you and your boys have read the last one I gave you yet, but I knew you wanted this one so..." It was a history book about France and Gavroche was always interested in their country's history, even though he acted like books didn't mean that much to him. _Typical boy_, she thought.

Clara was fortunate when his face lit up in delight. "Clara, 'hanks! You're the best. Without your 'elp we wouldn't be able to read nothin'."

It was a difficult task, trying to teach them to read but Clara tried. She made them practice everyday and although they were impatient they learnt in the end. Gavroche's reading was still a little shaky but he could understand most words. He liked the drawings in the book anyway. If it wasn't for books and a bit of education then Clara might not be capable to read herself, however, Clara would have still been a bright and curious girl. Experiences educate people too. Clara's long term plan for Gavroche was that he would be able to get a job when he was older, if he could read. Not a lot of people were able to and it did look impressive if you knew how to interpret text.

"You were quite easy to teach really," she lied, "because you are so young," she teased again.

"Hey, I aint that young! You're the one who's nineteen years old and hanging around with twelve year olds," he teased back.

"That is true, but I prefer your company anyway." She started to think of all the people she had met in the last year and she couldn't think of anyone who she truly wanted to be friends with apart from Gavroche. They were all middle class or upper class and did not share her beliefs.

"Gavroche they're starting!" One of the boys yelled from across the street, which knocked Clara out of her daydream.

Gavroche quickly jogged across the road but then turned back to Clara. "Come on then." Clara was confused but she followed anyway. Many of the young kids followed too. They made their way along the cobbled paths towards General Lamarques house but she had no idea why they were going there. Clara could hear chanting and she was curious to as what is was about.

"Where are we going?" She asked Gavroche.

"Lamarques place. Students of the university are protesting there. They're gunna start a revolution!"

_Revolution. _The word seemed foreign to her, yet she felt like she wanted to say it all along. Were the people of Paris really causing an uprising? Finally someone was doing something about the darkness in this city.

They reached the courtyard and Clara could hear the shouts of the people. Gavroche behind her yelled, "vive la France!" and the rest of the boys joined in. There were many carriages around and the lower class appeared to be grabbing and begging towards the wealthy folk inside the vehicles. They were just ignoring the ones below them, regarding them with disgust as if they stunk of horse manure. Clara thought the ones who neglected the poor were the vulgar ones.

Clara moved deeper into the crowd so that she could hear what the students were shouting.

"When's it gonna end?"

"When we gonna live?"

"Something's gotta happen now!"

"Something's gotta give!"

"It'll come, it'll come, it'll come, it'll come, it'll come."

It all excited Clara and she could feel the electric charge of the people beside her. She had found something that she too could fight for, something that was worth fighting for.

"Where the leaders of the land? Where is the king who runs this show?"

Clara froze. She definitely recognized that voice but she couldn't picture the face. She focused her eyes on the one who had spoken. He had blonde curls that fell around his face and her wore a distinctive red jacket. He was definitely handsome and he seemed to be the leader of the group. His eyes were a bright blue; she couldn't seem to look away. It suddenly dawned on her who he was. It was _him._

Enjolras. The man who had saved her that night so long ago. He was actually here, promoting the rebellion that she so desperately wanted to join. _He probably won't remember me. I look so different now. _But when he locked eyes with her, she knew that he remembered.

(***)

Enjolras couldn't believe his eyes. Clara was here, standing in the square that he was addressing. _It can't be her. I must be mistaken. _But deep down he was sure it was the girl who had given him hope. They were both staring at each other in a serene way. She looked far grander than he remembered; she didn't look poor any more, her dress looked expensive; he liked the dark violet colour on her. Her big green eyes still held such light in them and he instantly wanted to question her on everything about herself. How did she go from being a street urchin to becoming middle-upper class citizen like himself?

Enjolras had been so focused on Clara that he only just realised he had stopped speaking to the crowds. Luckily Marius took over, saving him from ruining the speech. He didn't need to be diverted from the revolution, and he wasn't going to be. _Revolution is far more important_, he kept repeating in his head. Enjolras had changed considerably since the last time he met Clara; he was now committed to France.

Enjolras spoke the rest of his part, "Lamarque is ill and fading fast! Won't last for long, so they say."

"With all the anger in the land, how long before the judgement day?"

"Before we cut the fat ones down to size?"

"Before the barricades arise?"

The shouts of the people rose from the streets. This is what Enjolras had spent his years waiting for, finally Paris fought for their country. He handed out some more flyers and he then elegantly jumped off the higher ground and on to the floor. Even though he knew he shouldn't, he searched for her in the swarm of people and once he noticed her he made his way directly towards Clara, gently pushing aside the strangers that stood in his way.

When he reached her he regretted it instantly, even if he was a bit curious. Enjolras knew that he must be polite nevertheless, "Clarisse?" She looked just as shocked as he did and frankly more nervous. Her pupils dilated ever so slightly and he couldn't help but wonder what was going on inside her beautiful mind.

"Enjolras," she spoke softly.

"Dear _Mademoiselle_ it is really you from all those months ago," he said, almost confirming it to himself.

She smiled. "_Oui Monsieur_, I can assure you it is me. What are the odds that we would meet again on this day? I am in your debt for rescuing me that night." _  
_

"You do not owe me anything, Clarisse. I simply did what any gentlemen would have done."

"In that case, you are certainly a gentlemen," she paused to look around the crowd of people, "and that was an inspiring rally you started. I agree it is about time we have a change in government, at last there are some people in France I can side with."

It pleased Enjolras to find out she was a supporter of liberty and it didn't surprise him either. "I am glad you agree with us, we need all the help we can get," she beamed in reply. "I hope you don't mind me commenting, _Mademoiselle_, but you look different from the last time I saw you."

Clara looked down at the muddy floor with a sorrowful look and Enjolras felt that he had let his curiosity take over too much. "_Pardon_, I did not mean to cause offence," he said stepping closer to her.

"No it is fine, Enjolras. I will happily share my story if you want to hear, although it is a long one," she said now looking deep into his sapphire eyes, causing his face to soften under her gaze.

"I have time, I would listen."

Just as he spoke these words, policemen arrived on the scene beckoning the people back and threatening to use violence if necessary. "It appears we do not have time to talk now, but please meet me at Café Musain tomorrow night if you are interested in joining us. Do you know the place I speak of?"

"I do, I will be there," she said and with a smile in his direction she shifted through the herd of bodies.

Enjolras took a deep breath and resumed to tell his allies orders, such as were to meet later on. Judgement day was so close now and they could all feel it, the time was almost upon them.

(***)

The next day, it was early in the evening so it was still light. Clara had butterflies in her stomach as she arrived at the café. She was debating whether coming here was a good idea or not. _What if they dismiss me like a dog on the street? _She had chosen to wear a simple cream coloured blouse, a beret and trousers - she wanted them to take her seriously and not just to think of her as an idiotic girl who wore dresses. Clara had sneaked out her bedroom window when she knew that Lorraine and her husband were at least out of ear shot; they would be furious if they knew she was out at this hour but they never checked up on her anyway.

It was now or never, she made her way towards the doors. She could hear discussion and laughter on the inside of the place and she was already put at ease. She quietly stepped through the entrance and at first they didn't notice her so she happily lingered in the background of the scene. Some were drinking and others were counting weapons. They were all dressed in smart waistcoats and shirts; they truly did look like republicans.

She was the only woman there, but she could overhear a conversation about the students mistresses in the corner. The subject made her chuckle and the sound of girlish laughter drew the attention of everyone in the room.

They look surprised to see an unknown female standing there and they didn't really know what to do. Some people just simply continued to speak to each other, as they assumed that someone knew her.

Clara quickly became self-conscious, but her face relaxed when she heard a familiar voice. "I'm glad you decided to come. Everyone this is Clarisse, she is one of us now," said Enjolras walking towards her.

_One of them, _she liked the feeling of belonging somewhere. She thought it was very kind that Enjolras had already invited her into the republican group when the members knew nothing about her.

"You mean she is joining us at the barricade? That is no place for a woman to be," said one of the students who was drinking alcohol.

Enjolras spoke again directly glaring at the one who had spoken, "Let that be her decision to decide, although-" Clara stopped him by putting a hand on his arm. She could talk for herself.

She slowly walked closer to the student. "If that is your opinion then don't view me as a woman, I too wish for a better tomorrow just as all of you do. If you think I cannot handle myself then you are wrong. I can probably handle myself more than you can, I grew up on the streets of Paris, _Monsieur_, and I am quite used to combat and struggle," Clara said with a smirk and the men around her cheered at her reply, gulping down their beverages. They had accepted her, somewhat, and she couldn't have felt more joyful. _I'm going to fit in here nicely_, she thought to herself. She looked in Enjolras' direction to see that he didn't look too happy. She wondered why this was and she watched him continue to dispute about the rebellion plans.

The student who had spoken about her earlier lent forward and kissed her hand, "My name is Grantaire, beautiful lady, and I am more than honoured to have you fighting beside me." Clara knew that was his apology for what he had said before and she nodded at him. He grinned boyishly at her and offer her his bottle, "Would you like some?"

Before she could reply, another young man spoke light-heartedly beside her, "she doesn't need any of you poison, Grantaire." Clara turned to look at the boy. He had light brown hair and freckles dotted around his face - he was kind looking. She had a feeling she knew him.

"Just trying to be friendly," Grantaire said in answer.

"Well, thank you for offering," Clara responded with a smile.

She turned back to the other man. He introduced himself and shook her hand, "my name is Marius Pontmercy, we have met before but I doubt you remember."

"I thought you face seemed familiar, I do remember, _Monsieur_. It is astonishing you remember me, I wasn't exactly memorable." Although she hated to admit it, all the people living on the street looked the same: dirty and weak.

"I beg to differ," he said making her beam. "Enjolras is thankful to see you again," her cheeks flushed a faint shade of pink, "he feels it is a sign that the odds are with us."

"Unfortunately I have never been very lucky, I'm not so sure it is a good sign."

"I guess we will find out. I should warn you now, _Mademoiselle_, Enjolras is a splendid man but he can sometimes come across as uncaring but that is only to cover up the amount that he does actually care. Just to give you a heads up."

"I will keep that in mind, Marius, thank you."

After her conversation with Marius she travelled around the room, listening to plans and engaging in discussion. She belonged here, it was like they were her long lost family. She could hear Enjolras assigning tasks to each individual; they were well prepared by the sounds of it. Clara couldn't help but marvel at Enjolras' determination.

She introduced herself to everyone and she didn't fail to notice the hunger in their eyes when they looked her up and down. She still wasn't use to the attention; she was use to people spitting on her while she was sleeping in an alleyway.

Just as she was getting comfortable in a chair, Gavroche entered the café with what looked like a student beside him. She was alarmed that he was here and she strode towards the entrance.

"Excuse us for being late, the check up on Lamarque took longer than expected," said the man beside Gavroche.

Enjolras stopped next to Clara. "Is his condition improving?" He asked hopefully.

"Nah, but he's not dead at least. It won't be soon though," Gavroche replied. He then realised Clara was in the room with everyone, "Clara? What you doin' here?"

"I could ask you the same question? You are too young to take part in a fight like this," Ordered Clara. Each person in the room was surprised that the pair knew each other yet alone that they were friends. The rich girl and the poor boy.

"I'm not too young, you're only seven years older than me. If you stay here then I stay here," Replied Gavroche sticking his tongue out. Seven years was quite a large age gap but instead of arguing about it, Clara crossed her arms in frustration but encouraged Enjolras to continue. She would talk to Gavroche later and try to convince him not to come here again. She knew he would not listen though.

"Report all your findings to Combeferre, he and I have discussed when we think we should strike," Enjolras commanded, "We need to make sure that our timing is perfect so that the people will surely join us. We are finished today but we will meet at the wine shop tomorrow around this time."

Once everyone had dispersed around the café, Enjolras gently held Clara's arm and guided her out of the building. Once they were outside he loosened his grip on her.

Clara was confused about why he had led her here. "Have I done something wrong? I was merely just caring for my friends safety."

"You have done nothing wrong, Clarisse, but I do not think it is wise that you go with us at the barricade. You may still help us prior to the event but I must ask you to leave once we have built the barrier." He looked away from her and she decided she didn't like him telling her what to do.

"But, Enjolras, I want to fight and I deserve to just as much as the next man," she spoke in a childish way. Her eyebrows where high due to surprise and her eyes were wide. He still wore his red jacket and she couldn't stop herself from glancing at it ever so often. Whenever she tried to look into his glowing blue eyes he just diverted his gaze.

"We don't need you getting in the way," he said coldly. "Grantaire is right, the barricade is no place for women."

"Well deal with it because I am allowed to go wherever I damn please. Even Grantaire, who doubted me in the beginning, doesn't mind me fighting alongside him," Clara was becoming frustrated at Enjolras, she understood he was her leader now but he can't just ban her from attending the fight. She continued, "And what do you mean I cannot go because I am a woman. That is ridiculous."

"I did not realise you wanted to fight. If I had then I wouldn't have asked you to come here tonight."

"I think you are a hypocrite, _Monsieur_. You talk of equality yet you rank men higher than us. It's not fair that we just get left behind all the time, I think we should be fighting for women's rights as well," spoke Clara with a spark in her eyes. Enjolras sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, she knew she had to convince him, "just give me a week to persuade you?"_  
_

Enjolras glared at her for a while but soon accepted defeat when he realised that Clara was not going to give up. "I'll think about it but I'm not promising anything," he said and Clara nodded gratefully. She knew she would have to tell him about her past if she was going to convince him but she wasn't ready yet. "I am required in the café, excuse me," but Clara was still inquisitive.

Enjolras seemed so closed off from emotions. Her saviour, who she barely knew, yet it seemed they had known each other for a lifetime. He had an invisible shield wrapped around himself and he didn't let anyone break through it.

Clara carefully moved closer to him, hesitating slightly. He had turned around and was about to walk back into their meeting place. He was taller than her, she noticed. He looked so vulnerable in that moment, just like an angel; _her angel._

"Is Enjolras your first name?" She asked him and he stopped moving.

He seemed to answer willingly and he rotated back around to face her, "No, my full name is Alexandre Enjolras."

"I thought it might be something like that," she looked into this solemn mans eyes, "why did you choose to use your surname instead of your forename?"

"I thought it better suited me, people would take me more seriously. It sounded like someone who was a soldier of democracy," he answered honestly. His hair blew ever so slightly in the wind, and it appeared like his curls had movement of their own.

"I like the name Alexandre," she admitted, "personally, I think it does suit you. It means a man's defender, a warrior. I think that is what you are."

He ever so slightly smiled at her. It was true he was a defender, she wanted to say _her defender_ but she knew her response would have been met with silence.

"I hope you don't mind me asking," he spoke suddenly, "why do prefer to be Clara instead of Clarisse? Clarisse is such a beautiful name I do not know why you would want to shorten it."

She looked down at the cobbled stone floor. "My mother used to call me Clarisse, and whenever I heard that name being spoken it brought up painful memories."

"Forgive me, I did not know how much it meant to you."

"It's fine. Recently I have realised that it doesn't bring up painful memories. Whenever I hear you say my real name it reminds me of all the great times we had together before our lives plummeted to the ground," Clara paused to look into Enjolras' eyes once again, "In due time I will inform you of my history and I think it will be enough to convince you to let me join you at the barricade."

He nodded in her direction respectfully and she said her farewells. Clara then made her way home and with a glance over her shoulder she saw Enjolras disappear into the Café Musain. He said she wasn't indebted to him but she thought otherwise. She would protect his life over her own if she had the choice, after all he was her leader now; she didn't realise at that time that he would become so much more than that.

(***)

**What do you guys think of Chapter two?**

**I am actually really proud of myself because I manage to write 5000 words! I am writing this as true to the musical/film/book as I can but I obviously have to change bits and add bits :)**

**In my story, when necessary just imagine them singing.  
**

**And one last thing: Do you think I got Enjolras' character right? Part of me thinks I did but then part of me thinks I didn't. I think I wrote Enjolras as he is in the musical and film not the book.**


	3. Love

_"A compliment is something like a kiss through a veil." - Victor Hugo_

**Chapter Three:  
**Love

It had been three weeks since Clara had joined the schoolboy revolutionaries and she truly had grown into one of them. She had participated in rallies that they held in front of the people. She had run errands for them, recently she was asked to find out where the Parisian national guard stored their weapons; she had also managed to swipe some gunpowder in the process - which she was very proud of. She felt ignited. Now all the students were ready to fight. Everything appeared to be going perfectly according to plan. Unfortunately, Lamarque was on his death-bed and they knew his demise would soon be upon them, they were frankly surprised he had lasted this long. But he was the spark the needed to light the fire, he would be the start of it all.

Clara had told Enjolras about her past exactly one week after she had spoken to him about it. She told him everything. She told him how her mother and herself had been evicted from their home and forced to live on the street when she was just twelve years of age. How her mother had to become a prostitute earn them some extra money but after five years of it she became sick and sadly died in hospital. She mentioned how she had remained on the streets for another year all alone, before her Aunt found her and took her in. Clara knew that the only reason she wanted her was because she couldn't have children of her own - she simply needed someone to look the part. That was why Clara has always hated Lorraine; she didn't really care about Clara.

After Clara said all these things, Enjolras was very calm about it. He stated that she should use those memories to encourage her to fight even harder at the barricade, meaning that he was allowing her to do so. She had persuaded him and she couldn't have felt more overjoyed.

Clara and Enjolras had withheld and hidden their obvious feelings once they realised the attraction between each other. They both thought it foolish to succumb to these emotions so close to the rebellion. Although, they still had wonderful conversations most of the time when they both forgot they were trying to avoid each other. Clara knew he was making an effort to ignore her. Sadly, every time Clara got close to him he would flinch away from her. He confused her, this angelic Apollo was like a riddle she could not solve. He was a charming young man, who was capable of being terrible. His words occasionally felt like daggers in her, yet she was the same towards him sometimes.

Clara was silently sitting in the Café Musain, waiting for the meeting to commence. The buzz around the room would not quiet down so instead of engaging in debates she had decided to read a book. This particular book was called 'Evelina'. It intrigued Clara because the woman in the novel did things out of the good of her heart and yet she made mistakes along the way. It reminded Clara of herself and she couldn't help but think about all the mistakes she had made in her life. Although, she knew that people learnt from their errors and she liked to think that it had helped her become a stronger person. _The power of books, _She thought to herself.

"What are you reading?" A whisper said so close to her ear that she practically jumped out of her skins. Thinking it was Grantaire she turned to face the drunkard only to be met with a pair of piecing blue orbs.

For a second she held her breath, fearing that if she let any oxygen go then he would be swept away from her by the tiniest of force. When she started to speak, her brain was still trying to find the correct words to use. "Uh, Evelina. The book is called Evelina," she didn't fail to notice that he had taken a seat beside her, "It's an English book. I always like to read about other cultures and different ways of living, It makes me wonder."

"Wonder about what?" Her leader asked while wearing a composed expression.

"What my life might have been like in another country or just somewhere else."

He was staring directly at her as if he was mesmerised by Clara and it made her heart rate increase intensely. His shirt was slightly undone, the top off his chest was on display, and Clara couldn't stop her from eyes flashing down every few seconds. It was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate on his face and she felt her throat closing up. She didn't know what was wrong with her.

"If you had the choice would you choose to stay here or would you decide to leave?"

Clara was curious about why he was asking her so many questions but she thought long and hard about her answer. Would she swap this life for another existence? She had never really reflected upon it before. In her book the character called Evelina was always travelling from France to England but eventually settled in Britain. Perhaps if Clara had lived in England then she might have found herself a Lord like her book character and would live a happy life of high-class parties and luxuries. But Clara realised that she didn't want that, it wasn't her definition of a joyful living. _Maybe_ _I'm not as similar to Evelina as I originally thought._

"France will always be my home. I would stay here," she faced him properly now and she could feel his breath on her lips. He was only about seven inches away from her face. "What would you choose, Alexandre?"

Enjolras cleared his throat. There was definite tension in the air and Clara was filled an emotion she had never experienced before. "I shall forever choose our country, just as you. That is why we must fight to save it."

Clara nodded faintly in response with a petite smile, "and fight we shall." He seemed to be trying to get inside this inquisitive girls head by not breaking eye contact once. _Why does he want to figure me out? _"I think your needed," Clara said her eyes pointing to Combeferre, who was awkwardly lingering near where they were sitting.

Enjolras stood, his chin high, and ordered everyone to pay attention and they immediately stopped when they heard him speaking.

"Combeferre," Enjolras said implying that Combeferre say what he has to.

"At Notre Dame the sections are prepared."

"At rue de Bac they're straining at the leash!" Feuilly added happily. Clara could tell that this news had relaxed Enjolras a bit and he now seemed more confident with his words. Enjolras then suddenly propelled upwards and onto the table. His strong posture made him look like a true leader.

"The time is near. So near it's stirring the blood in their veins and yet beware, don't let the wine go to your brains!" He said accusingly looking to Grantaire who had drunken three bottles already. "We need a sign, to rally the people, to call them to arms, to bring them in line!" Everyone cheered in response and starting talking all at once.

Marius stumbled into the café and he was behaving like he had been hypnotised. _He is acting odd._ Clara glanced curiously at the young boy. "Marius, you're late." Spoke Enjolras in his usual harsh manner.

Marius, however, seemed oblivious to his friend. All the voices had now died down and everyone was looking at him. Joly came up next to him and patted him on the back, "Marius, what's wrong with you today? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"Some wine and say what's going on," Grantaire said sitting down across the table to where Clara was sitting. He winked at her alluringly, making her chuckle in response.

Marius smiled like a little boy struck by Cupid. "A ghost you say... a ghost maybe. She was just like a ghost to me. One minute there, then she was gone."

Marius, in love? She would have to get all the details from him later. As she looked over to Enjolras she could tell that he didn't approve of what Marius was saying. Clara then thought about how foolish falling in love with another person was at this moment in time. The were on the brink of revolution and now Marius was going to be distracted by a girl who he had just met. Clara knew there was a good reason to keep her distance from Enjolras, because she didn't want to care about him; if she developed further feelings from him then she would be distraught if he perished._ It's not like he would return my affection anyway._

Grantaire took a swig of his wine and then he lent towards Marius with a goofy grin plastered on his face. His wavy black hair was messy and frantic due to too many unconscious slumbers. "I am agog! I am aghast! Is Marius in love at last? I've never heard him 'ooh' and 'aah'", Clara and the rest of the room, giggled at his words. Grantaire then turned to Enjolras, "you talk of battles to be won, and here he comes like Don Ju-an. It's better than an o-per-a!"

Enjolras did not look amused and he strode over to the table with such presence that Clara looked up at him in awe. "It is time for us all to decide who we are. Do we fight for the right, to a night at the opera now?" He said to Grantaire, who now looked somewhat guilty. Enjolras then shifted to speak to everyone in the café, "Have you asked of yourselves, what's the price you might pay? Is this simply a game for rich young boys to play?"

Marius placed his hand on Enjolras' shoulder before he could turn away from him, "Had you been there today you might know how it feels, to be struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight." _Ah Marius, forever the romantic, _Clara thought. "Had you been there tonight you might also have known, how your world may be changed in just one burst of light," just for a second, Clara could have sworn that Enjolras' eyes flickered to her. That quick glimpse of his brilliant bright eyes ablaze, caused her to take a sharp intake of breath. But Marius wasn't finished, "And what was right seems wrong, and what was wrong seems right."

"Marius, you're no longer a child, I do not doubt you mean it well but now there is a higher call," Enjolras spoke. "Who cares about your lonely soul? We strive toward a larger goal, our little lives don't count at all."

Enjolras then continued to discuss the requirements for the rebellion. Marius slumped down in the chair next to Clara with a sigh present on his lips. Clara tried to brighten his spirits and squeezed his hand, "Who is this mysterious woman then?"

Thankfully, Marius perked up again. "I do not even know her name. I have begged Eponine to find out where she lives so that we may speak at last," he said excitedly.

Clara wasn't sure it was a good idea, but she smiled reassuringly at her friend. _At least he is happy. _She recognized the girl's name: Eponine. She had definitely seen her around Marius a lot; Clara was sure that she was fond of Marius but of course he wasn't aware. The girl's appearance reminded Clara of herself before she had been stolen by Lorraine. Clara would always see Eponine staring at Marius with a sorrowful expression and it sadden Clara. Before she could say anything more, Marius was excusing himself from the conversation and he quickly fled down the flight of stairs.

"Where is he going?" Grantaire slurred.

"I have no idea, but I can guess," spoke Clara bending to look at Grantaire who was across the small table from her. Marius was probably off to search for his new-found love.

Grantaire slid a glass of alcohol over to Clara, "we appear to be all alone, _Mademoiselle_." She smiled at his friendliness and gulped down all of the wine.

"It seems so," she said slipping the goblet back over to Grantaire. He smiled lopsidedly and refilled her drink. Grantaire had become a close acquaintance of hers ever since she had joined The Friends of the ABC. He lightened her spirit when she became down even if he did flirt with her a bit. Although, he was different from her, he was cynical, but she didn't mind. "What are your reasons to be here, Grantaire? You said yourself that you do not believe in anything."

Grantaire scratched his stubble in thought. "I believe in our leader," he pointed out and Clara had to agree with him. She too believed in Enjolras more than she liked to admit.

She was about to carry on her conversation with Grantaire but she was interrupted by a loud voice, "Listen everybody!"

Heads turned in the direction of the noise. Clara then saw Gavroche standing beside Courfeyrac; who Clara had also grown closer to, mainly because she knew he would protect her young companion. Clara noticed Gavroches symbolist badge, which she now wore as well, still pinned to his jacket. His blonde hair so dirty it looked brown. "General Lamarque is dead," he announced.

Of course they knew it was coming but there was still silence over all of them when he said it. The man who had fought for what was right was now no more. Gavroches only job so far had been to observe Lamarque but now that was no longer necessary Clara worried that he would offer to complete riskier tasks.

Enjolras was the first to speak up, "Lamarque, his death is the hour of fate. The people's man. His death is the sign we await!" The students gazed upon him in admiration, "On his funeral day they will honour his name. It's a rallying cry that will reach every ear! In the death of Lamarque we will kindle the flame, they will see that the day of salvation is near! The time is near! Let us welcome it gladly with courage and cheer."

She didn't know what caused her to do it so suddenly, but as if something was buried deep inside of her that wanted to be released, Clara rose from her seat. Enjolras' eyes were fixed on her face. "Let us take to the streets with no doubt in our hearts!" She proclaimed.

This seemed to start a chain reaction and the members joined in. Grantaire too stood up, even in his tipsy state.

"But a jubilant shout," one shouted.

Another yelled, "they will come one and all."

Then they all spoke together, raising their wine glasses and guns in the air. "They will come when we call!"

They were all eager to start what they had been waiting for; the overthrow of the monarchy. Clara sat back down and took the bottle of Grantaire, despite his complaints, and swallowed a mouthful of alcohol. An unexpected thought had emerged: What if none of them made it out of this alive? It made her panic and so she turned to Grantaire holding up the flask in her hand, "get me another."

(***)

Most of the students had gone but Enjolras felt there was so much more to plan. He rubbed his forehead in frustration. Lamarques funeral was only a few days away. He was sure that they were prepared but he couldn't shake the doubt in his stomach.

Enjolras, for the first time that day, settled in a chair. He was still in the Café Musain, but it would be closing soon. He thought about Marius and how he had acted so infantile today. He would lecture Marius about how the people's rights were so much more important than anything else, try to convince him. He didn't need Marius lusting after a woman during battle. Enjolras knew that soon Marius would have to decide whether to stay with this girl or fight alongside France for liberty, Enjolras just feared he wouldn't choose freedom. Would he pick love or independence? _Love_; he dreaded the word. It was all but a distraction to Enjolras. Yet maybe if there was no need for a revolt, then he might consider it. But there was need to rebel and that was Enjolras' first priority.

He closed his eyes briefly, resting his lids. It was then that he heard her sweet sounding laughter. He was confused and he got up, scanning the area. Sure enough, she was sitting on a wooden seat; she had propped her chin in the palm of her right hand to balance her head. He noticed Grantaire was across the table from her and he sighed. Grantaire was normally the cause of problems. They appeared to be drinking liquor as Enjolras got a whiff of the stench once it had reached his nose.

He made his way towards them and they didn't notice him until he was right next to them both. "Clarisse, what are you still doing here?" Enjolras questioned her.

Grantaire answered for her, "she is spending time with her handsome friend, what is the harm in that?" He had a daft grin on his face and Enjolras scowled at him.

He ignored the alcoholic and continued to speak to Clara, "how intoxicated are you?"

Clara grinned up at him, her beautiful face trying to hide an uneasy expression. "I didn't have that much to drink, just a little bit," she said with a small giggle. He reckoned she hadn't had as much as Grantaire but she had consumed a great deal nevertheless. "Why does it matter anyway?," she asked, raising one of her eyebrows.

"I will escort you home, it's late and it is not safe at night... especially in your state," Enjolras uttered.

She twirled her brunette hair around her finger and looked up at him with doe-like eyes. "And what state are you implying I am in?" She asked, cocking her head to one side.

Enjolras stared at her impatiently, "Are you coming with me or are you staying in the incapable hands of Grantaire?"

"You didn't answer any of my questions." she said stubbornly with a sly smile. He just looked at her without replying. "Fine, let me think about it." In that moment, they both turned to look at Grantaire who mumbled something about Enjolras always ruining the fun before he passed out, his head landing on the table. "I am coming with you," she said still looking at senseless drinker.

She got up and tried to walk only to trip and fall; Enjolras reacted quickly, catching her before she made contact with the floor. He held her waist and she laughed like a little girl.

"Please be careful," he said, concern slipping into his voice. She was behaving so childishly and he realised that he was going to have to literally guide her back to her home, wherever that may be.

She disregarded his anxiety and instead glanced at Grantaire, "is it alright to just leave him here?"

"Grantaire has done this many a time. The barmaid usually wakes him when she locks up, he will be fine." This response seemed to satisfy Clara and she continued her attempt at moving. Before she could collapse again, Enjolras stopped her. "We should try to tread together, that way I can support you if you become unsteady," he explained.

She nodded in reply and she tenderly grasped his plum coloured jacket. They began to place one foot in front of the other, taking one step at a time. Enjolras wondered how he had gotten himself into this position; he didn't like to spend too long with Clara as he would be faced with the truth about how he felt about her. _I should have just left her with Grantaire_, but he knew that he wouldn't have done that. They continued to carefully trek down the streets of Paris; he knew the general direction of her house.

"You do not have to help me. Right now I just want to be left alone," she murmured beside him. He gazed at her and he noticed her eyes were cast down. "I am already ashamed at the condition I am in and now you too are here to witness it." Her eyes held such sadness. Before she seemed perfectly fine but that appeared to be because she was covering up her depression.

He just watched her for a few seconds before he spoke. "I cannot just abandon you now, you will never regain your bearing, so suggesting that I do so is shameful in itself." His words were stern yet true and this seemed to cause Clara to break into a smile. However, Enjolras' voice softened, "do you want to tell me what has been troubling you?" He could tell that something was wrong as she had turned to alcohol for comfort.

Clara hesitated at first but then she sighed. She halted and Enjolras slowly twirled to face her."_Monsieur_, I do not understand how you can just carry around so much responsible on your shoulders. I'm not even our leader yet I feel accountable for everyone who will fight with us." She was still tipsy yet she seemed to be making sense to Enjolras.

He didn't really know how to phrase the way he felt about the situation. "I know we will lose some lives at the barricade but I am not willing to risk anyone if I do not have too. You're right it is a heavy burden, but I must remain strong for the sake of all of us."

"Is that why you hide your emotions?" She asked innocently.

He thought about his answer, while getting trapped in her eyes. "Yes," he simply said.

Clara looked out into the distance. "I am so afraid that we will not survive it."

"Clarisse, as I have said many times, you do not have to join us in battle," he knew she had a reasonable motive to, but he still didn't want her to endanger herself.

She looked at him alarmingly. "I do not worry for my own life," she said with disgust, "I honestly do not care if I live or die. I care about Grantaire, Marius, Courfeyrac, Gavroche and everyone else even if I haven't known some of them that long." She looked down at her fingers, which she was twiddling, "I care about you. I just fear the worst, Alexandre."

Enjolras was surprised at her selflessness. Clara said she cared about him and he wondered if it was because she was intoxicated or not. He looked at her and she looked so petite and helpless, "I too share your fears, it is not going to be easy. All I can promise you is that I will try to bring everyone home."

She nodded and started strolling down the street again, but the cobbled road was difficult for her. Once more, Enjolras held her close to his body to maintain an adequate stride; it was the first time a woman had been in his embrace. He noticed that she smelt nice but he frowned when he realised he was thinking of such nonsense. She finally replied to his earlier statement, "but you must understand that you do not have to shoulder the weight of the world on your own. It is not designed for just one man, you have to accept that. Remember that all of us are here to carry it with you."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said calmly to her. It was then he noticed that she was shivering, "are you cold?" She was wearing a white vest with a thin brown sleeveless jacket over the top - hardly the warmest of outfits. It was June but the evenings were not any kinder.

She smiled. "I'm quite adjusted to this sort of temperature, do not worry," but Enjolras was already removing his jacket and placing it around her shoulders. He was brought up to be gentlemanly. "_Merci_," she said gratefully. Unexpectedly, a look of confusion appeared on her face. "Where are we heading to?" She asked politely even with her slightly slurred words.

Enjolras had no idea why she was bewildered. "To your residence. I assumed you wished to be lead there."

"No no no, I cannot go back to her tonight," she moved in front of him placing her hands on his chest to prevent his motion forwards. He raised his eyebrows at her and she explained, "I have had too much to drink and it is late, she will be dangerously wrathful. She doesn't exactly know I converse with students of the university, she isn't even aware I leave the house most of the time." Her eyes were pleading and Enjolras thought about the situation. His face was utterly unreadable in the illuminated moonlight. She turned and scanned the place, "I'll stay with Gavroche, it is not too far from here. Thank you, Alexandre, for your support but I will be fine from now on."

Enjolras thought of the conditions that the little boy lived in. He thought about how they had no real protection from the weather or diseases and he decided that he did not want Clara sleeping there. "You can stay with me, my parents place has a spare bed."

At first Clara seemed to not register what Enjolras had said to her. "_Pardon?_" She asked in a perplexed manner and she rotated back around to face him. Her cat-green eyes growing in astonishment.

"I am offering you shelter, Clarisse," he said, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Oh, that would be excellent if it is not too much trouble."

"It is no difficulty," he paused, "why are you so surprised I asked you, _mademoiselle_?"

She ran a hand through her long hair. "I guess I just learnt not to expect kindness," she simply said but he could tell she didn't want to talk about it. He nodded at her and then they began to make their way toward his home in silence.

(***)

Once they entered Enjolras' grand property, he sat down on his settee and rubbed his face with his hands. He was so very tired. Normally at this time he would be pacing around and thinking of all the preparation he needed to do for the revolution but not this evening. He had also given up studying for his political lessons at the university as they took up too much of his hours. He watched Clara stumble up the stairs, she looked exhausted as well. He groaned quietly to himself when he realised that he would have to show her to her room.

He shifted himself up the steps to the second floor and looked for her. He checked the guest bedroom but she wasn't there and he inspected the washroom. In the end, he found her lying face down on his personal bed. He thought she had fainted so he carefully collapsed beside her and stared up at the ceiling.

"I thought you mentioned your mother and father lived here with you?" A voice asked. He whipped his head in her direction only to realise that she was awake and now watching him.

He glance back at the roof of the room. "They don't live here but it is their house, they never tend to visit any more." His parents would always expect Enjolras to meet up with them instead of the other way around. They were the typical important rich folk; always thinking they were better than others who were a lower class in the social ladder than them. Enjolras wasn't fond of them.

"Do you ever get lonesome when you are home?" She asked. She was wringing the duvet in her hand and both of them were observing her do so.

"I never stop to think about it, it is a waste of my time." He didn't want to discuss such things. Enjolras figured out that Clara was an individual that shared most of her emotions with him and he was the contrary of that; he always concealed them. He was attempting to get used to it but it was hard.

"I always feel like I am in a cage when I am in Lorraines house. It drives me insane, it is too clean and too silent," she stopped when she realised she was complaining. Enjolras saw that she was still wearing his jacket and it made the corners of his mouth quirk up into a smile. She yawned closing her eyes, "I still have that necklace you know? It is forever hanging around my neck."

Enjolras didn't get which piece of jewellery she was referring too but he soon remembered. The one that he had recovered for her when it was snatched from her clutches a year ago. He noticed it then, glistening in the natural starlight from the window; it was a silver pendant with a tiny green stone embedded in the centre. _How did I not recognise it before?_

"It is lovely, Clarisse."

"My mother gave it to me," she mumbled before she dozed off. Clara had such an unhappy past and yet she carried on with life, Enjolras respected her for that. As she was lying there a piece of hair fell in front of her face so Enjolras carefully picked it up and tucked it under her ear; sadly he would not do this if she was conscious. He meant to move and sleep somewhere else but just couldn't force his joints to work. Instead he fell into a long slumber beside the girl who he was suppose to be avoiding.

(***)

**I tried to add some quotes about Enjolras from the book in this Chapter so I hope you liked those. Sorry I took a while to update. PLEASE REVIEW :)**


	4. Home

_"When a woman is talking to you, listen to what she says with her eyes." - Victor Hugo_

**Chapter Four:  
**Home

Clara's eyelids fluttered open when she felt a soft breeze hit her face. She had a bit of a headache, probably from last nights alcohol abuse, and she carefully rubbed her temples trying to relieve the throbbing sensation. Once she remembered where she was, Clara noticed that Enjolras' face was extremely close to her own. His wavy hair was rather untidy thanks to the pillow his head still relaxed on. They had somehow stirred in their rest and they had now ended up squashed together in an almost couple-like way. She simply stared at him for a few minutes as he remained asleep, examining all his features. He looked younger in that moment - he didn't have his usual frown lines upon his brow or that fatigued look in his eyes - he appeared just an innocent boy, unaware of the tragedy that stormed this fallen city. Very faintly, as she didn't want to wake him, she traced her finger across the slight stubble on his jaw; she honestly didn't know why she did it but it was as if she had a sudden urge to.

She then cautiously wriggled away from him and off the mattress, searching the place in the process. His room was fairly large yet it was empty apart from his bed, a closet and a few dressers, although she did turn her attention to the desk by the window. There were documents scattered across it, she assumed they were his work for the insurrection. She headed towards it and quickly scribbled down her own note, thanking Enjolras for his hospitality. Then, realising that Lorraine must be furious, she swiftly removed his jacket, placing it on the bed, and exited his house.

She half jogged, half ran back to her house. Clara prayed that Lorraine hadn't realised she was missing from her room. As Clara manoeuvred through the market place, her mind drifted to yesterday evening; she had been upset and drunk about the death that would surely come in the near future. He had promised her he would try to keep them all safe and the idea had comforted her but she wasn't going to let him do it on his own. Knowing Enjolras she knew he would put himself in harm's way to protect his friends, meaning she was going to have to make sure that didn't happen.

All of a sudden Clara collided with someone, the crash unbalanced them both and they crumpled to the floor. The girl she bumped into, held her head in a daze and a moan escaped from Clara's lips.

"_Pardon_, I'm so sorry," the girl said quickly.

Clara smiled, despite the fact that her mild headache was far worse now. "There is no need to apologise," she offered the girl her hand and they helped each other up, "it was my fault any way." The girl had tanned skin, chocolate-coloured hair and dark brown eyes; Clara recognised her. "You're Eponine, Marius' friend?"

Eponine's face lit up when she heard his name being spoken. She wore a tattered green dress with an aged leather belt around her middle. Clara stopped herself from looking pitifully at the unhappy girl as she remembered that people never want sympathy.

She glanced at Clara's revolutionary badge. "_Oui_, I am Eponine. You must be the one Marius talks of, the only female member of _Les Amis de l'ABC_," she replied cheerfully.

"That I am and there is definitely space for another female if you are interested, I do get sick of all the men sometimes." They both lightly chuckled at the comment. Clara brushed herself off, her clothes were a little dirty now but she didn't mind too much.

Eponine replied doubtfully, "I'm not sure, I do not know any of them expect for Marius." It was a large thing to commit to, Clara could tell she was considering it even so.

"I had never met them before I joined, apart from Alexandre and Marius of course. They are welcoming do not worry. I'm not suggesting you join us at the barricade, Marius wouldn't approve, but there are other things you can help with," Clara informed with a small smile.

"Who is Alexandre?" Eponine asked curiously and Clara ever so slightly blushed.

"Uh, I meant Enjolras. He is our leader." Clara forgot that everyone knew him as Enjolras, his last name.

Eponine seemed to think for a moment before she responded, "I remember now." She then looked down at the floor with a tiny smirk present on her lips. _What has Marius told her? _Before Clara could ask, Eponine was changing the subject, "Do you think Marius would care if I participated in the fight then?" She asked with a sorrowful expression. She was still gazing down at her clasped hands.

Clara replied honestly, "he wouldn't want you in harm's way, so yes, he would care." This seemed to make Eponine beam.

Unexpectedly A deep voice around the corner boomed at them, "Eponine!"

"I'm coming _père_," she shouted back. She then turned back to Clara, "I must go now but I shall consider it. _Au revoir_ Clara, nice to finally meet you."

"You too," replied Clara with a smile, Eponine then disappeared into the street. She made a mental note to herself that she would talk to Marius about Eponine; he may have found another girl to adore but there was still a person close to him who loved him just as much.

She cursed to herself when she realised that she still needed to get back to Lorraines. It was highly unlikely that her Aunt would forgive her for this. Clara continued to make her way back home, no longer in a hurry. She didn't want to look hot and flustered during the argument she was sure to have with her adopted family.

Once she arrived, Clara took a deep breath before she opened the front door and stepped inside. The house was extremely quiet, which Clara thought not a good sign; it had strange eerie feel about it, even at this early hour. She spotted one of the female servants she was acquaintances with and followed after her.

"Mathilde," Clara whispered fiercely to the housemaid, attracting her attention. At first she ignored Clara with a worried expression on her face, but Clara then stood in front of the women, blocking her way.

"_Mademoiselle_ Clara," Mathilde murmured back, although, she would not directly glance at her.

"What is going on?" Clara asked, growing restless.

Mathilde gulped and finally looked into Clara's eyes, "your Aunt is awaiting your attendance in the lounge," she paused checking the area, "she does not look happy _Mademoiselle_."

Clara nodded at Mathilde and proceeded towards the living room. _Only two more days until revolution, then everything changes, _she kept repeating in her mind. _Two more days. _She stepped through the archway at the entrance of the room and then she saw her relative. Unfortunately, she also had her cruel husband with her, who she only saw if something serious had happened. His grey pencil moustache appeared to be shaking slightly with anger, she presumed. He was part of the city's council, a supposedly respectable man, Clara disagreed. Clara gently sat down on one of the chairs, across from her Aunt. Lorraine's husband, however, remained standing.

It was Lorraine who spoke first, "do you care to tell us where you have been all night and this morning?" She spoke quietly and it sent shivers down Clara's spine.

She realised she was going to have to convincingly lie. She could fib easily to Lorraine but not under the pressure of her husbands glare. "I spent time at a friend's place. I wasn't planning on staying overnight but yesterday when the evening got too dark and gloomy I thought it too dangerous to trek out alone. Forgive me for not giving you any notice," Clara said politely.

Lorraine ignored her apology and asked a different question instead, "were you with a boy?"

Images of Enjolras flooded Clara head. The way he had looked so harmless in his slumber. She clearly remembered how his stubble had felt beneath her fingertips. How he had protectively caught her when she had slipped over. The butterflies in her stomach when he had affectionately swept her hair behind her ear when he thought she was sleeping. Lorraine's eyes widen in fury, Clara hadn't responded quick enough. "No," Clara simply said. _That wasn't __convincing._

"Don't lie to me!" Lorraine bellowed; her face transforming into a beetroot colour. Her husband placed a firm hand on her shoulder in an attempt to subdue her rage. Clara didn't reply and there was a silence over all of them for a moment. Clara leaned back into her seat, trying to create distance between her and her unbearable 'family'. "There is also another thing I would like to ask you about," her Aunt continued more calmly this time. "I understand that you enjoy reading, Clara, and I have been more than tolerant with you withdrawing books from the library but it seems that certain books are just disappearing. Why do you return some novels but not others?"

Clara was shocked, she didn't think her Aunt would notice. _Foolish_, Clara scolded herself. She decided not to be untruthful as Lorraine was already suspicious of her, "I lend them to some young boys I know, it educates them. I thought you wouldn't mind as you do not read yourself."

Lorraine seemed to breathe in and out slowly through her nose. "And where do this boys live?"

Clara guessed her Aunt would not be happy with her answer, "Saint Michele."

Lorraine gasped, as if she was repulsed, though, it was her husband who spat his words out first, "are you informing me that my books are in the hands of some grubby, filthy peasant? We should be trying to get rid of that species not handing them out luxuries that they probably sell to buy some rancid food any way." This provoked Clara to stand and defend her friends.

"So what if they do! They deserve food just as much as you do. And they are not 'that species' they are human beings just like us. You, you are the ones behaving like pathetic animals, not them," she shouted back at him. She too at heart was what he called a 'grubby, filthy peasant' and she was proud to be. It disgusted her that she even shared a rooftop with these people.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, slut! You've probably been sleeping around with a number of young men, as well as stealing from us. We gave you somewhere to live and this is how you are repaying us?" His upper lip was curled into a snarl and she just wanted to claw his haggard face off. She knew why he had put up with her for this long; he wanted her to marry so that he could have a next of kin, someone to take over from him. Unfortunately for him, that wasn't going to happen.

"I am not sleeping around, but maybe I should; starting with the other council members. They might also be thrilled to discover that I am not actually your daughter," Clara then gasped sarcastically, "it might ruin your reputation."

After she said this she immediately felt a great amount of force upon her left cheek. Her legs buckled and she fell sideways, landing on the decorative carpet. She clutched her face as a sharp pain tingled through it. He had slapped her. Clara was livid but she remained where she was, grasping the rug to restrain herself.

She looked up at the horrible man who stood over her. "Listen to me," he said in a low voice that was equally as terrifying as before. "This evening your Aunt and I are having a banquet and there are going to be lots of very important people there. You will attend and you will behave, I don't need you spoiling this for me," he started to walk out the room, leaving Clara deserted on the floor. He continued to speak to her over his shoulder, "also, remember to wear a dress and a corset. Don't be late or you won't have a house to call _home_ any more."

_This will never be my home_, she thought viciously. Clara's eyes flashed to Lorraine who was still seated in her sickly coloured armchair. One hand was placed alarmingly over her chest; she looked horrified at what had just happened yet she didn't say a word. Clara thought they were both as bad as each other.

She would show up to her 'Uncles' prepared dinner but not for reason he thought. He was going to regret ever letting her into his residence; she would not bow done to him so easily.

(***)

Enjolras couldn't stop staring. She was not engaging in conversation as she usually did, instead she sat in the corner of the room by herself. Something had angered or upset her, he could tell. The way she was tapping away at the table vigorously, was definitely proving his prediction. She was wearing an elegant pale blue dress and her hair was carefully pinned up into a bun; not her usual outfit choice. She normally wore just a simple shirt and trousers, as she tried to blend in. _Maybe she is still troubled, like she was last night._

"Enjolras," someone said, snapping him out of his daze. He turned to face his colleagues. He thought back to the time he had enrolled into the University. He didn't have any supporters then, it was just him and his ideas. Now his student friends were fighting beside him for what they believed in. They had all come so far.

"Well, Courfeyrac, do we have all the guns?" Enjolras asked, returning to reality.

It was Feuilly who answered, "Twenty rifles good as new and twenty rounds for every man." He placed one of them down on their desk and Enjolras inspected it closely.

"Good, but when we use them be wary. You must save your ammunition, every shot must count. We can't afford to waste anything," Enjolras replied sternly.

They mumbled in agreement. "We also have seven guns in St. Martin, " his friends then continued, discussing amongst themselves. Enjolras, however, left the conversation and made his way toward the only women in the wine shop.

He noticed that a lot of his allies were gazing at her with lust in their eyes and it immensely irritated him. Just because she wore different clothes did not mean that they were allowed to look at her like that. An unknown emotion crossed over him. He remembered reading her handwritten note that she had left him this morning and how he had felt disappointed she had left so soon. She bewildered him and it probably wasn't a good idea to talk to her but yet there he was, standing in front of her nevertheless.

He grabbed a chair and placed it opposite her, gracefully sitting down on it. She just resumed to glare at nothing. Had he been the one to infuriate her? They both remained silent; nether one of them speaking. Enjolras was the one to break the ice, "Have I done sometime to offend you?" His tone was plain, pretending that he didn't care either way.

"No," she said harshly.

Enjolras scratched his neck with his thumb; he knew she did not want to talk to him. He was about to give up, when he unexpectedly spotted a small bruise on the side of her face, it was on the cheek that was facing the wall. She was attempting to hide it from him; it looked fairly new. _How did she get that?_ He meant to question her about it but instead he just reached for her face, in an effort to examine it. Before his fingers could reach the mark she caught his hand. They then stared directly at each other. Enjolras could see that her eyes held so much fire in them, just as his own did.

She released his hand and stood abruptly, "Excuse me, I have go," she then paused, a smirk spreading onto her face, "my father is waiting." She then strode out of the meeting area.

Enjoras was confused. She had told him herself that she never knew her father, so why would she mention him? Enjolras then scanned the room looking for the one person that could help him. When he spotted him, he called the boy over, "Gavroche!" He understood that Gavroche was like a brother to Clara, he would know what Enjolras needed to know.

Gavroche bounded towards him obediently. "What?" He asked in his usual accent.

"Do you happen to know where I might find _Mademoiselle_ Clarisse?

(***)

Clara smoothed out the bottom of her dress before entering the dining area. She was psyching herself up; she would never admit it but she was, frankly, nervous. Her corset was fastened incredibly tight and she felt like she was slowly suffocating. She clicked her tongue, then charmingly sauntered into the large room.

The table was filled with mostly unattractive middle-aged men; she put on her best smile and acted the part Lorraine's husband wanted her to. The man she despised was seated at the head of the table and he rose when he saw her. Lorraine was settled next to him, wearing a blank expression. "Ah Clara, how lovely of you to join us. Everyone this is my daughter," he said. He then leant towards her, purposely kissing her bruise as a reminder to support him in this. To any normal person it would have just looked like a father giving his child a loving peck on the cheek but Clara knew better than that. She had to prevent herself from recoiling from his touch.

She planted herself in the mahogany chair. "Right, well lets begin shall we," one of the spineless men suggested. Everyone nodded in agreement and they began to cut away at their pork. Many conversations started up around the table and Clara zoned out. She stared down at her food; how could they eat that when so many men, women and children were starving right under their noses. She simply refused to eat it. She thought of Gavroche, who would be sleeping in his giant hollow elephant statue, the Elephant of the Bastille, and she knew how much he craved food like this.

It was ten minutes before anyone realised she hadn't touched her dish. "What's wrong, do you not like your food?" Asked the arrogant man opposite her, who now had an amused grin on his face. _Wealthy bastard_, she swore in her head. She could feel Lorraine's husbands cold eyes on her.

Clara shook her head, "no _Monsieur_, I'm sure the meal is adequate," the room was suddenly silent and Clara was sure that her words were echoing, "I was just thinking about how the delicious food on my plate would surely feed a large family in the slums." The men all looked up from their own dishes, shocked at her statement. Clara continued, "but then I remembered you abandoned your fellow people a long time ago." Clara then took a bite out of one of her sausages that were decoratively laid down for her, the barons appeared repulsed she wasn't using the cutlery. She didn't have to glance at the man beside her to know that he was fuming.

One of the elderly men tried to change the subject, "so Clara, your father tells us that you are a student of the university."

This caused Clara to raise her eyebrows suspiciously. Did Lorraine and her husband know she was working with the schoolboys or was he just boosting about her to his rich acquaintances. She guessed the latter option. Meanwhile, the doorbell to the mansion rang and one of the servants hurried off the get it.

"That is correct," Clara replied with a smile. "Although, I think I am going to drop out soon."

"And why is that, my dear?" Her 'father' questioned through gritted teeth. He had forced smile plastered across his wrinkled face.

Clara acted innocent as she looked at her landlord, "You know why_ papa_, how could you forget?" She then turned to the guests, "I cannot raise a child while I am in school, it wouldn't be fair on the infant." Clara placed a hand on her stomach and convincing gazed down at her abdomen adoringly.

When her eyes connected with the visitors again they all seemed concussed. They actually believed she was pregnant. The same elderly man as before spoke again, "Why, we had no idea you were married. Congratulations Clara, where is this lucky fellow of yours then?"

Clara laughed, tossing her head back almost violently. "I have no husband," when she said this the man's face fell with embarrassment and his expression hardened. "You see it's a funny story," Clara continue, still wearing a huge grin on her face as if she was oblivious to the judgemental glares she was now receiving. "When I lived on the street, I met this boy called Claude. I fell hopelessly in love with him," she paused just to see if she was giving the reaction she hoped. It was all lies after all. "I hadn't seen him in a long time but then he showed up again and well... you know the rest," she said touching her belly and winking at one of the men.

"You, you were a beggar?" Someone asked quietly.

"You seem surprised?" Clara said in a perplexed manner. "Surely, father here, told you I grew up homeless?" Clara then gasped and looked at their host, "you didn't tell them?" _I am quite good at this, _Clara thought smugly to herself.

Lorraine's husband was literally quaking wrathfully, he was clutching the table mat with such strength that his whole hand had gradually turned red. He did not look forgiving. _Be strong_, she told herself. She noticed Lorraine had excused herself from the room.

"What an earth is she talking about?" One of the men asked, rising out of his seat. He appeared to be of importance; perhaps the head of the board. "You have a lot of explaining to do before I let you command our council," he said, while glaring at Clara's 'father', who remained silently mortified.

Clara stood up. "It appears you have lots to discuss, _messieurs_. I'll leave you to it," Clara said politely to cover up her evil smirk and she began to walk away.

"You will not be going anywhere!" Screamed Lorraine's husband and Clara whipped her head back around. "You will apologise this instant!" He looked like he was struggling for words. _Revenge is sweet_.

"Or what?" Clara said fiercely, her nostrils flaring. She was in control now. "What will you do? Why don't you hit me again! That seemed to work the first time." Everyone looked startled when they heard her comment and they all turned to look at Lorraine's husband. She was done with him, she was done with all of them. She strutted through the entrance and stopped when she reached the bottom of the staircase. She held onto the banister in an effort to cease the dizziness that she now felt. Clara couldn't believe what she had just done.

She heard movement behind her and thinking it was Lorraine's husband she frantically span around. Instead there stood Enjolras, looking as handsome as he usually did. He had a brown waistcoat on today, but she preferred the red one on him. His blue orbs appeared to be shining up at her.

"How did you get in?" Clara questioned as if he had put her in a trance.

"A housemaid opened the door for me," he simply said, he looked like he wanted to move toward her but she could tell that he had decided against the action. Clara then remembered the servant leaving the room to fetch the door, it must have been Enjolras that knocked.

"How much did you hear?" She asked quietly.

"Enough," he replied, his gaze softening. She figured he knew she was lying about her being pregnant but he now knew how she had gotten her bruise. He then did walk towards her but she retreated up the stairs before he could say another word. She had to stick to the plan. She flew into her room and picked up her pre-packed bag. She was finally leaving this awful place. She didn't know where she would stay but anywhere was better than the mansion where so many painful memories stood.

Clara then heard a sob escape from the corner of her bedroom. She turned and there sat her Aunt; her arms were wrapped around her chest and she was crying. Clara didn't know it was possible that Lorraine could weep so heavily. She walked towards her only living relative.

"You know, I never wanted to marry him. But he had money, so what was I to do," her Aunt said as though she was talking to herself. Clara could see in the corner of her eye that Enjolras had followed her up but he just lingered by the door, respecting her privacy. Lorraine now looked at Clara. "Your mother was always the pretty one, always the one to attract all the boys. But I did love her, she was still my sister," she sniffed.

Clara sat beside her Aunt, her eyes were starting to glisten with tears as well. "Then why did you abandon us?"

Lorraine shook her head continuously, "she had brought shame upon the family. Simple as that, I guess I just tried to move on." She didn't say any more after that and a sigh left Clara's lips. She didn't expect everything from Lorraine anyway.

She slowly got up and made her way back down the steps. She passed Enjolras on the stairs but he moved in front of her so that she couldn't go any further. She frowned at him and repeated her attempt at walking but he just looked at her. She felt the strain of the day and the tension surrounding her disintegrate. She buried her head in the crook of his neck, suddenly feeling exhausted. His face was once again unreadable but she didn't care. He held her tight and in that moment she felt safe at last.

(***)

Clara was seated on a comfy cream-coloured sofa. In the end, they had gone back to Enjolras' residence. He didn't speak to her on the way there even though there was so much that he could have asked. She heard him fumbling in the kitchen; she had agreed to let him check her injury, even though she didn't really see the point. She had received far worse in the past.

Enjolras came back with tea in his hand which he passed to Clara. She accepted it, taking a sip and then placing it on a coaster. He had pulled up an armchair so he could sit closely opposite her. Without talking, he carefully took hold of her chin and moved her head to one side. She could feel his breath gliding over her skin.

"You should have let Joly tend to your wound," he stated scornfully. Joly was studying to be a doctor, Clara had heard he was well practised, but she thought his skills were not needed on her.

"It is hardly a wound," she responded._ He is such a serious man sometimes, _she thought with a small smirk.

He was still scowling at her, "I wish you would have told me it was him who did this to you." He gently touched her bruise and she winced.

"It doesn't matter." Again, he brushed his fingertips over her injury but this time she didn't flinch.

"It does matter," he replied. She wanted to look at his face so she could view his emotions but he still held her fragile jaw in place. "It angers me greatly," he continued. A bittersweet feeling washed over her; he was the only person she knew that would really care if she was harmed. Of course, Gavroche would always be there for her but not the way Enjolras would be. He was like her protector even if most of the time Clara thought she didn't need to be defended.

"It will be fine, just be cautious with it and it should be gone in a few days," he said assessing her. He let go of her chin and she bent back around to face him. She could see he was debating in his mind whether to leave her now. She truly didn't want him to go but she didn't know how to tell him.

His blue eyes were alive again and she could see her reflection inside of them. Her hair was still in the French twist and pin style, she also wore her mothers necklace as she usually did. "Alexandre," she said in almost a whisper. He gazed at her and it was hard for her to find the right words she wanted to say. "Does this mean we are not avoiding each other any more?" Clara asked curiously.

She could feel her own heartbeat increase rapidly as she waited for his answer. He opened his mouth as if to speak but he shut it again before any words could leave it. She could hear his respiration change slightly and she wondered what was going on inside that brain of his. Clara noticed his eyes would find their way down to her lips ever so often; this caused her to experience a peculiar feeling, something she had never felt before. She sensed the air being squeezed out of her but she was unsure if it was thanks to the corset she wore or not.

Clara slowly leaned in and their lips met. At first it was a delicate tender kiss, to which she withdrew to stare into his icy orbs, only to see a mixture of desire and admiration in them. She didn't see the Enjolras, their leader, she saw _her_ Enjolras; the one that he wouldn't ever let anyone else behold except Clara. He then softly held her face in the palm of his hand and traced a thumb across her unwounded cheek. They both hungrily claimed each others lips again. Automatically her hands tangled in his hair and she felt herself move further into his seat. They both recognised it was wrong, especially so close to judgement day, but neither of them stopped. All Clara knew was that there was no place she would rather be than with him and that was enough for her.

(***)

**Finished Chapter Four! I haven't edited this chapter yet but I will try to asap. Sorry this chapter isn't really about the revolution, it's more about Clara but I felt I needed to include more about her. This has quite a lot of drama in it (I think I was a bit emotional when I wrote it) but I hope you enjoy it aha. This chapter is dedicated to JasmineFehan as she edited the cover image for this story.**

**Also thank you to all the lovely people who commented on my story! I always love to hear from you guys :)**

**The image on the right is of Amber Heard who plays Clara.**

Story is on Wattpad.


	5. Revolt

"There is nothing like a dream to create the future." - Victor Hugo

**Chapter Six:  
**Barrier

Enjolras very lightly touched the soft hand that was placed across his bare chest. When he did, the hand twitched in response; most certainly a natural reflex. This made him smile and he looked to the figure next to him to notice that she too had a small amused smirk on her face. Enjolras was lying on his back and she was comfortably nestled at his side, the thin bed covers were untidy stretched over their bodies from the waist down. She was awake but her eyes were closed, enjoying the summer morning while it lasted. In that moment, he marvelled at her beauty; her fairly long brunette hair cascaded down her exposed back like a waterfall. She was what he was fighting for, she always had been, ever since he saw her with that gleam of hope in her eyes when he had forcefully dragged that stranger off of her. He would keep her safe._  
_

Enjolras then turned his attention to the window and he gazed out at the rooftops of the neighbouring houses. Today was the day. Enjolras was filled with uncontrollable excitement that he knew would later on supply his wrath against their enemies. They were all ready for the battle.

Remembering they had to be at Lamarque's funeral soon, Enjolras swiftly kissed Clara's forehead and mumbled to her, "time to get dressed." She replied by making a sound that Enjolras assumed meant she was agreeing with him.

They both gradually moved from the mattress and began to clothe each other. Clara opted for one of her tops, yet a pair of Enjolras' trousers for her outfit, with a belt around her middle to finish it off. Enjolras couldn't fathom how she still looked perfect while wearing male trousers. He smiled down at her as she did his collar, he wasn't used to being in the company of a women and he realised that, with Clara, he enjoyed it. At the barricade he couldn't think nor act like this as it was no place to build up relationships; he would have to set an example to his men and that meant not conversing with Clara as much as he would like to. The thought saddened him.

Her hips swayed as she walked towards his wardrobe and flashbacks of his night with her emerged inside his head. His body yearned for her and he felt empty when she wasn't beside him, he tried to ignore these thoughts but nevertheless he sauntered closer to her. She spun around to face him, holding his red jacket in her hands.

"Wear this one?" She asked innocently, stepping closer. He received it and shrugged it on, examining the red material in the process. He noticed the revolutionary insignia was still pinned to it.

Then he stared into her dark pupils, lifting his hand to hold her left cheek; he could see the bruise given to her by her landlord but it had faded somewhat, it angered him that someone had hurt her. "Be careful today," he said sternly.

She nodded in reply, her eyes gleaming. "I will."

(***)

Clara scanned the area. Some of the national guard were on horseback, others marching on the ground. It seemed like half of Paris' civilians were at the funeral parade, the general was a popular man. Lamarque's carriage approached them slowly and the tension grew. Clara glanced at Enjolras, Combeferre, Prouvaire and Feuilly who were across the road from her. Marius, Joly and Courfeyrac were beside her.

Enjolras was the one to initiate the quiet song, the others followed, "Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men?" It was a low chant, in which the volume gradually grew. "It is the music of the people, who will not be slaves again!" Clara and her friends all looked at the soldiers with hateful glares. "When the beating of your heart, echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start, when tomorrow comes!"

People around them started to sing as well, they knew the song. Most joined in, murmuring about the thrill of it all. _Revolution has begun._ "Will you join in our crusade? Who will be strong and stand with me?" They questioned the crowd, "beyond the barricade, is there a world you long to see?"

The members of the ABC all watched each other frantically. Courfeyrac gently elbowed Clara, warning her that they were about to move. She nodded ever so slightly in response.

Enjolras and Marius then strode into the middle of the path, blocking the way of the coach. "Then join in the fight, that will give you the right to be free!" They proclaimed loudly, waving their red flags in the air. Now all of the members and rebels jolted forward, eager to climb the obstacle in front of them.

"Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men?" Clara was helped to the top of the large carriage by Marius, he grasped her hand and flung her up. "It is the music of a people, who will not be slaves again!" Bahorel threw a flag towards her and she caught it, waving it proudly. "When the beating of your heart, echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start, when tomorrow comes!"

Clara grinned at the crowd, she was finally releasing her beliefs to the people. Soldiers that were walking beside the vehicle were arm in arm with the students, singing along. Banners were raised high, supporting the uprising. The crowds, rich and poor, cheered in approval. Clara had made sure that her wavy hair was let down, the reason being that she wanted everyone to see that she was a woman, that not only men can fight for what is right.

They continued, "will you give all you can give, so that our banner may advance. Some will fall and some will live, will you stand up and take your chance?" The carriage travelled down the street, nearing closer to Gavroche's Elephant and Clara searched for him. She spotted him, swinging his oversized flag and pride filled her. He shouted her name and she sung to him directly now, "The blood of the martyrs. Will water the meadows of France!" He was no longer a boy, he had grown so much in the last year.

The steeds hauling the cart, suddenly, stopped moving. Reinforcements had arrived. The guardsmen appeared to be on horse back, their swords were pointed straight at the insurgents. Clara glanced at Enjolras, who knowingly looked back at her and handed her a pistol. They both clicked their weapons off the safety mode. Both sides gazed at each other, neither one of them wanting to make the first move.

_Bang_. A gun had been fired. The bullet had hit an elderly women who happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. This caused extremely disapproving shouts to break out over the crowd. Someone attacked the man who had shot the innocent bystander, yanking him out of his cover. Things then escalated quickly.

"Charge!" The horsemen began to gallop towards the rebels and Clara raised her gun. She aimed for one soldier's heart. Could she really kill a human being? Maybe Enjolras was right, a battleground was no place for a woman. _No_, Clara thought immediately._ I can do this, I have been through hell these past years but it wasn't for nothing, things will change_. The man she was targeting lifted his blade, about to strike a spectator. It was against her morals, yet, she took a deep breath, preparing herself, and pulled the trigger.

The guardsman tumbled off his horse, landing on the rough ground with a thud. Dead. Clara looked away not wanting to think about what she had done. She jumped off the carriage and into the chaos below her. Her friends were fighting backwards, in the direction of the barricade and Clara followed them, keeping her firearm close to her in case she needed it again.

(***)

"We need as much furniture as you can throw down!"

Enjolras helped his men upturn a cart, being sure they placed it in the correct position. Chairs, tables and all types of things were being tossed down from windows and into the large pile. _The barrier will rise_, thought Enjolras with determination and happiness. Everyone was busy doing something. It was then that he saw Grantaire with a barmaid across his lap, sipping alcohol while rebellion was happening around him. Enjolras growled with annoyance; Grantaire could never take anything seriously. He ignored the ignorant drunkard and instead helped his comrades finish the barricade.

Gripping Courfeyrac shoulder with a joyful expression, Enjolras climbed the bottom of the obstacle and declared to his fellow people, "I need a volunteer! Someone who can find out their plan and when they will attack!"

He thought that no one was going to offer their services straight away, but almost instantly an older gentlemen's voice answered him, "I can find out the truth! I know their ways, fought their wars, served my time in the days of my youth." The man wore a long black coat and a flat cap upon his head. Enjolras made the decision to trust the stranger, after all, why would he be here if he did not want to help?

Enjolras nodded at him and Prouvaire smiled kindly at the outsider, "see the people unite!"

"I pray your right," Grantaire murmured on his way past. Enjolras scowled at him and Grantaire avoided his gaze. Their spy then disappeared through the side of the barricade and Enjolras hoped he had chosen wisely.

"Alexandre," a familiar spoke. Enjolras turned around to see Clara with a rifle presented to him by her outstretched hand. She beamed at him and he took the gun from her grasp. Their fingers brushed together as he received it, his hand lingering there for longer than necessary. The students were all witnessing this affectionate exchange between the pair, but no one commented on it. They respected their leader's privacy.

Enjolras then skilfully clambered up mound of furniture, reaching the top effortlessly. Him and his peers sang once more, just like their normal evenings in the Café Musain. "Red, the blood of angry men." Combeferre chucked the symbolic red flag to Enjolras, who then seized it tightly. "Black, the dark of ages passed." Enjolras checked behind him to see the woman he desired and the men he admired staring up at him. "Red, a world about to dawn." Enjolras forcefully slotted the flag into the barricade, it waved magnificently in the breeze. "Black, the night that ends at last!"

(***)

**Sorry this took so long to upload! I will be updating quicker than this from now on, promise! I didn't want to rush it though, even though this is another short chapter. Oh yeah, by the way, the reason the next few chapters are going to be short is because I am trying to fit as many songs in as possible as I want them in the youtube link on the side. Therefore, I have had to separate some parts of my story. Hope you guys don't mind, it will just give you all more chapters to read :D**

**Thank you again for the fantastic reviews, please keep on commenting! It always encourages me to continue writing even if it is just a short comment :)**


	6. Barrier

_"There is nothing like a dream to create the future." - Victor Hugo_

**Chapter Six:  
**Barrier

Enjolras very lightly touched the soft hand that was placed across his bare chest. When he did, the hand twitched in response; most certainly a natural reflex. This made him smile and he looked to the figure next to him to notice that she too had a small amused smirk on her face. Enjolras was lying on his back and she was comfortably nestled at his side, the thin bed covers were untidy stretched over their bodies from the waist down. She was awake but her eyes were closed, enjoying the summer morning while it lasted. In that moment, he marvelled at her beauty; her fairly long brunette hair cascaded down her exposed back like a waterfall. She was what he was fighting for, she always had been, ever since he saw her with that gleam of hope in her eyes when he had forcefully dragged that stranger off of her. He would keep her safe._  
_

Enjolras then turned his attention to the window and he gazed out at the rooftops of the neighbouring houses. Today was the day. Enjolras was filled with uncontrollable excitement that he knew would later on supply his wrath against their enemies. They were all ready for the battle.

Remembering they had to be at Lamarque's funeral soon, Enjolras swiftly kissed Clara's forehead and mumbled to her, "time to get dressed." She replied by making a sound that Enjolras assumed meant she was agreeing with him.

They both gradually moved from the mattress and began to clothe each other. Clara opted for one of her tops, yet a pair of Enjolras' trousers for her outfit, with a belt around her middle to finish it off. Enjolras couldn't fathom how she still looked perfect while wearing male trousers. He smiled down at her as she did his collar, he wasn't used to being in the company of a women and he realised that, with Clara, he enjoyed it. At the barricade he couldn't think nor act like this as it was no place to build up relationships; he would have to set an example to his men and that meant not conversing with Clara as much as he would like to. The thought saddened him.

Her hips swayed as she walked towards his wardrobe and flashbacks of his night with her emerged inside his head. His body yearned for her and he felt empty when she wasn't beside him, he tried to ignore these thoughts but nevertheless he sauntered closer to her. She spun around to face him, holding his red jacket in her hands.

"Wear this one?" She asked innocently, stepping closer. He received it and shrugged it on, examining the red material in the process. He noticed the revolutionary insignia was still pinned to it.

Then he stared into her dark pupils, lifting his hand to hold her left cheek; he could see the bruise given to her by her landlord but it had faded somewhat, it angered him that someone had hurt her. "Be careful today," he said sternly.

She nodded in reply, her eyes gleaming. "I will."

(***)

Clara scanned the area. Some of the national guard were on horseback, others marching on the ground. It seemed like half of Paris' civilians were at the funeral parade, the general was a popular man. Lamarque's carriage approached them slowly and the tension grew. Clara glanced at Enjolras, Combeferre, Prouvaire and Feuilly who were across the road from her. Marius, Joly and Courfeyrac were beside her.

Enjolras was the one to initiate the quiet song, the others followed, "Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men?" It was a low chant, in which the volume gradually grew. "It is the music of the people, who will not be slaves again!" Clara and her friends all looked at the soldiers with hateful glares. "When the beating of your heart, echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start, when tomorrow comes!"

People around them started to sing as well, they knew the song. Most joined in, murmuring about the thrill of it all. _Revolution has begun._ "Will you join in our crusade? Who will be strong and stand with me?" They questioned the crowd, "beyond the barricade, is there a world you long to see?"

The members of the ABC all watched each other frantically. Courfeyrac gently elbowed Clara, warning her that they were about to move. She nodded ever so slightly in response.

Enjolras and Marius then strode into the middle of the path, blocking the way of the coach. "Then join in the fight, that will give you the right to be free!" They proclaimed loudly, waving their red flags in the air. Now all of the members and rebels jolted forward, eager to climb the obstacle in front of them.

"Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men?" Clara was helped to the top of the large carriage by Marius, he grasped her hand and flung her up. "It is the music of a people, who will not be slaves again!" Bahorel threw a flag towards her and she caught it, waving it proudly. "When the beating of your heart, echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start, when tomorrow comes!"

Clara grinned at the crowd, she was finally releasing her beliefs to the people. Soldiers that were walking beside the vehicle were arm in arm with the students, singing along. Banners were raised high, supporting the uprising. The crowds, rich and poor, cheered in approval. Clara had made sure that her wavy hair was let down, the reason being that she wanted everyone to see that she was a woman, that not only men can fight for what is right.

They continued, "will you give all you can give, so that our banner may advance. Some will fall and some will live, will you stand up and take your chance?" The carriage travelled down the street, nearing closer to Gavroche's Elephant and Clara searched for him. She spotted him, swinging his oversized flag and pride filled her. He shouted her name and she sung to him directly now, "The blood of the martyrs. Will water the meadows of France!" He was no longer a boy, he had grown so much in the last year.

The steeds hauling the cart, suddenly, stopped moving. Reinforcements had arrived. The guardsmen appeared to be on horse back, their swords were pointed straight at the insurgents. Clara glanced at Enjolras, who knowingly looked back at her and handed her a pistol. They both clicked their weapons off the safety mode. Both sides gazed at each other, neither one of them wanting to make the first move.

_Bang_. A gun had been fired. The bullet had hit an elderly women who happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. This caused extremely disapproving shouts to break out over the crowd. Someone attacked the man who had shot the innocent bystander, yanking him out of his cover. Things then escalated quickly.

"Charge!" The horsemen began to gallop towards the rebels and Clara raised her gun. She aimed for one soldier's heart. Could she really kill a human being? Maybe Enjolras was right, a battleground was no place for a woman. _No_, Clara thought immediately._ I can do this, I have been through hell these past years but it wasn't for nothing, things will change_. The man she was targeting lifted his blade, about to strike a spectator. It was against her morals, yet, she took a deep breath, preparing herself, and pulled the trigger.

The guardsman tumbled off his horse, landing on the rough ground with a thud. Dead. Clara looked away not wanting to think about what she had done. She jumped off the carriage and into the chaos below her. Her friends were fighting backwards, in the direction of the barricade and Clara followed them, keeping her firearm close to her in case she needed it again.

(***)

"We need as much furniture as you can throw down!"

Enjolras helped his men upturn a cart, being sure they placed it in the correct position. Chairs, tables and all types of things were being tossed down from windows and into the large pile. _The barrier will rise_, thought Enjolras with determination and happiness. Everyone was busy doing something. It was then that he saw Grantaire with a barmaid across his lap, sipping alcohol while rebellion was happening around him. Enjolras growled with annoyance; Grantaire could never take anything seriously. He ignored the ignorant drunkard and instead helped his comrades finish the barricade.

Gripping Courfeyrac shoulder with a joyful expression, Enjolras climbed the bottom of the obstacle and declared to his fellow people, "I need a volunteer! Someone who can find out their plan and when they will attack!"

He thought that no one was going to offer their services straight away, but almost instantly an older gentlemen's voice answered him, "I can find out the truth! I know their ways, fought their wars, served my time in the days of my youth." The man wore a long black coat and a flat cap upon his head. Enjolras made the decision to trust the stranger, after all, why would he be here if he did not want to help?

Enjolras nodded at him and Prouvaire smiled kindly at the outsider, "see the people unite!"

"I pray your right," Grantaire murmured on his way past. Enjolras scowled at him and Grantaire avoided his gaze. Their spy then disappeared through the side of the barricade and Enjolras hoped he had chosen wisely.

"Alexandre," a familiar spoke. Enjolras turned around to see Clara with a rifle presented to him by her outstretched hand. She beamed at him and he took the gun from her grasp. Their fingers brushed together as he received it, his hand lingering there for longer than necessary. The students were all witnessing this affectionate exchange between the pair, but no one commented on it. They respected their leader's privacy.

Enjolras then skilfully clambered up mound of furniture, reaching the top effortlessly. Him and his peers sang once more, just like their normal evenings in the Café Musain. "Red, the blood of angry men." Combeferre chucked the symbolic red flag to Enjolras, who then seized it tightly. "Black, the dark of ages passed." Enjolras checked behind him to see the woman he desired and the men he admired staring up at him. "Red, a world about to dawn." Enjolras forcefully slotted the flag into the barricade, it waved magnificently in the breeze. "Black, the night that ends at last!"

(***)

**Sorry this took so long to upload! I will be updating quicker than this from now on, promise! I didn't want to rush it though, even though this is another short chapter. Oh yeah, by the way, the reason the next few chapters are going to be short is because I am trying to fit as many songs in as possible as I want them in the youtube link on the side. Therefore, I have had to separate some parts of my story. Hope you guys don't mind, it will just give you all more chapters to read :D**

**Thank you again for the fantastic reviews, please keep on commenting! It always encourages me to continue writing even if it is just a short comment :)**


	7. Tears

_"It is nothing to die. It is frightful not to live." - Victor Hugo_

**Chapter Seven:  
**Tears

Clara was seated on the rubble of the barricade, between Courfeyrac and Gavroche. Most of the men were quiet, expect for the occasional mutter; their scout had not returned yet and the afternoon was growing old. Enjolras would not sit down, he was constantly on his feet, pacing about. Clara worried for Enjolras but she knew that there was no point reassuring him, it was inevitable he was going to be stressful in times like these. Instead, Clara was keeping Gavroche happy by helping the young boy tell Courfeyrac the story of their escape from near arrest. Although, Gavroche was making it sound slightly more heroic than it actually was.

He continued explaining his story, "it was all a big misunderstandin' really. See, this man dropped this coin and I 'appened to pick it up. I mean, if I didn't someone else would of." Clara smiled to herself. "Then the man threatened to report us if I didn't give it back. That's when Clara got involved."

"You have to admit, I saved the day," Clara added playfully, Courfeyrac chuckling in response.

"Well, you didn't manage to convince him." Gavroche pointed out, eager to finish the story. "He told the authorities 'bout us but we manage to escape. We hid in my elephant 'til the search was over. It was all very criminal of us," Gavroche said with a cheeky grin.

Clara ruffled his hair and he quickly shoved her hand away. She knew he didn't like to be treated like a child but she did it any way, just to annoy him. "The fool who notified the inspector about us was idiotic. It was only one franc, not exactly useful to a rich man like him. He should have just allowed Gavroche to keep it, instead he behaved like an infant," Clara justified.

Courfeyrac replied in an attempt to tease them both, "to be fair, Gav probably should have just handed the coin over."

The pair stared at him like he was insane. "Finders, keepers," Gavroche replied, jumping off the furniture. "Anyway, whose side you on?"

Clara crossed her arms jokingly, "yeah Courfeyrac? Remember, you should never get on the wrong side of a criminal."

The dark haired student held up his hands in defence, a smile present on his lips. They were trying to keep the mood light but the revolutionaries knew the danger of their situation. At the same time Prouvaire and Feuilly came out of the tavern with a number of guns; Gavroche glanced at Clara with a smirk on his face and with a wink in her direction, he scuttled over to them in the hope of obtaining one. "Jehan, don't let him have a gun," Clara called, pointing to the young boy. Prouvaire nodded, keeping an eye on Gavroche and moving the weapons if necessary. Clara could hear the street urchin groan from where she was sitting.

She suddenly spoke to Courfeyrac, "He shouldn't be here." Clara was referring to Gavroche. She had a scared look on her face - the expression of a anxious mother - she feared for her junior companion.

She turned to view Courfeyrac; she knew he understood, he too cared a great deal for the kid. He gave her a sympathetic look. "I know, but he refuses to leave." Marius sat beside the conversing friends but his mind appeared to be elsewhere.

"If we can't hold off the attackers then he will have to abandon us. _If _it comes down to it, we may have to say hurtful things towards him to make him depart, I will not have him perish in a war he shouldn't be taking part in." Her mind was made up, she just hoped the barricade would not crumble. Gavroche was the only family she had left.

Courfeyrac nodded, agreeing with her. "_Mademoiselle_, I promise you I shall protect him," he said, placing a hand over his beating heart.

Clara rested on his strong shoulder, her head rolling to one side. "_Merci_."

She then watched Enjolras gracefully lean against the wall, his hands in his pocket and his eyes closed as if they were trying to picture a wonderful memory. She wanted more than ever to just leap towards him and bombard his handsome face with loving kisses. But she couldn't. She just remained where she was seated. Next to her, Marius keep fidgeting, however, he halted when he made eye contact with Clara. She could tell he was worried about his love and she squeezed his arm reassuringly, as she did so often. Marius beamed back at her, then brought her delicate hand to his lips as a sign of respect and comradeship.

"He's back!"

In that moment, everyone swiftly moved to peer over the barrier. Enjolras was the fastest up there and he pointed his gun straight at their spy; they were still unsure about him. Clara stood, eagerly awaiting the news.

The old man spoke up, "listen my friends, I have done as I said. I have been to their lines, I have counted each man. I will tell what I can." He paused to see if he was getting a response but soon saw their impatient glares and continued, "better be warned they have armies to spare and the danger is real. We will need all our cunning to bring them to yield."

Enjolras pointed to the entrance of the barricade, encouraging their new insurgent in. The man strode through, every pair of eyes were concentrated on him. "Have faith. If you know what there movements are, we'll spoil their game. There are ways that our people can fight, we shall over come their power!" Declared Enjolras.

The greying man bowed his head a little, "I have overheard their plans, there will be no attack tonight. They intend to starve us out before they start a proper fight. Concentrate their force, hit us when it's light."

Clara was almost disappointed with this information but she didn't show it. The other students began to disperse, ready to sink back into their unified positions but Clara stayed. She wasn't convinced. _Why would they wait until morning to attack, it doesn't make sense,_ she thought, seeking an answer. She turned to Gavroche, who finally glanced over the crowd to look at their recent recruit. His emotion changed and Clara recognised it instantly. Gavroche opened his mouth to speak.

"Liar!"

The schoolboys spun around, confused and dazed. Gavroche carried on, "Good evening, dear inspector. Lovely evening, my dear." Enjolras looked at the man with astonishment and disgust as they all lunged for the traitor, who was trying to now escape. "I know this man, my friends, his name is Inspector Javert. So don't believe a word he says 'cause none of it's true." Courfeyrac and Grantaire restrained him by taking a firm grip of his arms so that he could not fight back. "This only goes to show what little people can do!"

Gavroche appeared thoroughly pleased with himself and Clara couldn't help a tad of laughter leaving her lips. "Bravo, little Gavroche," she praised.

Courfeyrac finished her sentence, "You're the top of the class."

"So what are we going to do with this snake in the grass?" Prouvaire asked, his gun prodding the Inspector.

Clara could tell that Enjolras was agitated that this man had slipped past him like he had and he ran a hand through his blonde hair. "Tie this man and take him to the tavern, in there the people will decide your fate, Inspector Javert."

Clara noticed Gavroche pointing a pistol at the imposter and she confiscated it, much to his complaints, and placed it in her leather belt. She didn't want anyones blood on his youthful hands.

The Inspector had completely changed his personality, his body was now tense and grunts of his annoyance echoed around him. He seemed angry he had been caught and forceful leant forward so that he was in Enjolras' face. "Shoot me now or shoot me later, every schoolboy to his sport. Death to each and every traitor. I renounce your people's court!"

Enjolras shoved him back and ordered them to take him into the café. They did so, with Clara following behind. Just as they walked through the entrance, the policeman fought back, flinging Courfeyrac and Grantaire off of him. Clara's friends brutally smashed into the stained walls.

(***)

Enjolras reached for the Inspector only to receive a painful punch to the face. He stumbled, someone steadied him and he regained his footing. He looked up to see a concerned Clara and he spoke softly to her, "Stay here." He then twisted back around and advanced on their 'problem'.

Somehow Javert had managed to obtain a cane and he was using it to batter the rebels away. Eventually they were able to swarm and overpower him. Once he was low to the ground, Enjolras picked up Javert's weapon and struck his head with it, knocking him unconscious. The students panted, the struggle had winded them somewhat.

"Attach him to the staircase," Enjolras commanded, narrowing his eyes at the motionless figure. They obliged. It was then that the sound of heavy footstep reached Enjolras' ears. _Our enemies are marching, _he realised.

Everyone hurried out of the building and armed themselves. They all positioned themselves in places where they could carefully peek at the incoming soldiers. Enjolras leant on the obstacle, raising his rifle, as he watched the guardsmen line up.

An assertive voice shattered the silence. "Who's there?"

It was the leader of the redcoats that had asked the question. The rebels didn't response immediately and Enjolras knew he was going to have to speak up. He glanced at Marius and Clara next to him and they looked nervous. He gave Clara a comforting nod and turned back to the officer.

"French revolution!" He bellowed, trying to sound confident. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and he could hear Clara's fast heartbeat as they waited for a reply.

"Fire!"

The furniture above them exploded into a heap of splinters. Smoke blurred their vision but they fought hard. Enjolras shot any one of the enemy that dared to come closer, however there were too many of them to take on. He keep checking Clara was still beside him, and he panicked when he noticed she wasn't there any more. His eyes searched frantically, but he soon realised that she was escorting an injured ally into the tavern. He focused back on the barricade, which the guardsmen's where climbing. Now they had the higher ground.

"Marius, no!" Gavroche yelled and Enjolras then saw the brave man mounting the barrier with a gunpowder barrel and a torch, but a rifle was directly aimed at him. Before Enjolras could react, another boy he did not recognise grasped the gun barrel and pulled it to himself.

Marius had not seen what had happened and continued his ascent. He held the flame close to the barrel, "fall back!" Ordered Marius to their adversary. "Fall back, or I'll blow the barricade!"

"Blow it up and take yourself with it," the guardsman said, hoping Marius was bluffing. Enjolras, however, believed that Marius would actually do it. No one moved, everyone was watching Marius intently.

His eyes showed no fear as he spoke, "and myself with it." He started to bring the fire closer to the explosive object.

"Fall back!" The officer shouted to his men. They all swiftly retreated, allowing Enjolras to grip the torch Marius was holding and place it back to where it should be.

Some of Enjolras' men shouted at Marius, others praised him but the young man did not seem to notice them. It was then that Enjolras beheld a boy; he was slouched against the barricade, holding his chest tightly as if it caused him great pain.

Marius also saw the petite male and it was him who uttered the words, "'Ponine?"

(***)

Clara was extremely shocked to see the girl she had conversed with a few days ago. She moved closer to Eponine, ready to greet her. Marius continued to speak, "what are you doing here?"

Eponine smiled weakly up at him, holding out a crumpled letter. Clara halted and didn't take another step; she realised blood was slowly seeping through Eponine's clothes and forming a tiny stream on the cobbled pavement. "I kept it from you," the wounded girl confessed, referring to the letter. "It's from Cosette. I'm sorry."

Marius accepted the note and Eponine shuddered violently. Marius' eyes now held worry as he gaped at the blood. "What have you done?" He questioned, collapsing next to Eponine and scooping her into his embrace. Eponine had been the courageous boy who had taken the bullet for him. Marius carefully lifted her arm so that he could inspect the injury, but it was too blackened with blood to examine it. The shot had pieced her heart; she didn't have long.

She placed a shaking finger on Marius' lips. "Be still. My brother must not know I am dying."

Clara stared in surprise, sorrow had overcome her but she was unable to stir. Marius gripped Eponine's hand softly, "who is your brother?"

"Gav," she whispered. Clara's eyes rapidly glanced up, searching for her close friend. Her eyes found him leaning against a building, watching his sister sadly. He had never told Clara that Eponine was his sibling. She desperately wanted to comfort him, but instead she just stood there, listening to the rain splash onto the stone ground. She gave him space to grieve in his own way.

Eponine grinned as she felt the water on her face and she gazed at Marius as if she was memorised by him. There was no doubt now that she loved him. Marius, himself, was on the verge of tears. Eponine noticed this and began to sing. "Don't you fret, M'sieur Marius, I don't feel any pain." She tilted her head back slightly so that she could be closer to Marius. "A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now. You're here, that's all I need to know." Everyone at the barricade was observing the pair in silence. "And you will keep me safe. And you will keep me close." She trembled again and Marius pulled her closer. "And rain will make the flowers grow."

She closed her tired eyes, ready to slip in an endless sleep but Marius shook her awake. "But you will live, 'Ponine, dear God above. If I could close your wounds with words of love."

This caused her to beam at the love of her life. "Just hold me now and let it be." She gently held Marius' hand and brought it up to her face. "Shelter me, comfort me." A tear rolled down Eponine's cold cheek. "So don't you fret, M'sieur Marius." They sung in union now, their soft words merging together. "I don't feel any pain. A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now."

Eponine's body shivered furiously and Marius let her fragile head rest on his chest. "I'm here," he reassured, his chin pressed onto the crown of her head.

"That's all I need to know."

Marius reclined back so that he could look into her warm brown eyes that he knew so well. "I will stay with you, 'til you are sleeping."

She was fading gradually, yet she continued. "And you will keep me safe. And you will keep me close." Marius mirrored her words, "and rain." She reached for Marius' face.

"Will make the flowers..." Her lips tried to reach his but before they could, life was drawn from her and her eyes finally shut.

"Grow," Marius finished. He then tenderly kissed her forehead, whispering a goodbye to her.

Clara felt her legs shake, she didn't think she could stand anyone. Joly took Eponine's body away and Clara could see a single tear run down Gavroche's pale face; they were family after all. It was pouring with rain now and everyone was gathering inside the tavern but Clara did not shift. She couldn't. She granted the rain permission to soak her to the bone and she began quake, just as Eponine had.

It was then that she felt a hand slip through her fingers and caress them gently. She stared down at their entwined hands and then up to the persons face. _Tears_; there had been a lot of them today but his angelic face did not possess any. He was emotionally strong and if he could be then so could she. He led her into the café and she allowed him too. Once she stepped through the doors, a large blanket was wrapped around her small figure, attempting to warm her. Only one recurring thought was on Clara's active mind; now she truly was the only female who fought for their freedom.

(***)

**Bonjour! I'm back from holiday! :)**

**Aw this chapter is so sad! Eponine is one of my favourite characters and it was painful to write this but it was also really awesome to write because the scene has so much emotion. I considered doing this chapter in Eponine and Marius' POV (third person still) but I stuck with Enjolras and Clara just because this is their story.**

**One slight adjustment to the story I made was that Clarissa should really be Clarisse as she is French. So I've changed that but it doesn't affect the story.**

**Tell me what you think of this chapter because I didn't get much feedback from Chapter 6. As usual, thank you to anyone who voted, commented or read. A special thanks to all my regular commenters, I love you guys!**


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